08-01-2013, 01:13 PM
From Laying Low
For being tied to a wall with an iron chain and metal lock, Jaxen was in surprising good health--and he doesn't even swim. That is, if he ignored the splitting headache and tender ribs currently reminding him of how much he disliked getting the shit kicked out of him, then yeah, pretty good health. Pretty shocking, actually. Considering he was sure he was on the verge of death--last he could remember.
A bulb from a fluorescent lamp hummed and flickered in the center of this -- room -- he was in. The other bulb was burnt out, but taking a look around, he wasn’t particularly interested in seeing any more details of the place. The harsh light alone already drenched every surface with a sort of mildew-colored black and green cast. It was probably twenty steps to the wall opposite him, and another twenty to cross from left to right. The floor was cement, and nothing filled the open space. Not so much as a chair. Though, if he squinted, it seemed it sloped toward a dark, round disk at the center. A drain, probably. And he thought again of that constant dripping in the distance. The dampness to the place explained the mildew-like musk on the air.
For being in this sort of horror-flick gone terribly cheesy situation, Jaxen was almost as curious as he was alarmed. For this reason, he stretched to gather exactly how much freedom he had, but was careful to do so quietly in case anyone was around to hear his stirring.
His arms were held straight over his head high enough that his elbows were stretched dead straight and his wrists were gathered together in two shackles. First he went about feeling the metal as carefully as he could, twisting and curling his fingers along their edges, trying to feel for joints, hinges, locks -- pretty much anything he could to get an idea of how to break out.
Then he pulled his feet beneath him and made to stand. The chain itself rustled with the noise, and Jaxen froze half way up, heart pounding, and listened carefully for sounds of acknowledgement.
It was then he heard it. A quiet groan followed by a dry, throaty question. “Is someone there?”
His eyes went straight to her, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed her before. She was similarly restrained as himself but in a corner across the room. Her chains scraped lightly across the cement and next a sunken face leaned forward into the light enough to make her out. Jaxen cringed.
She was sickly pale, with a gaunt face and scraggly, greasy hair. One side of her head was completely patched with the thick matting of dried blood. It was impossible to tell if she was ever once beautiful, or anything else about her really. Then she sunk back into shadow, and Jaxen breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to see any more of her.
“Yeah. Where are we?”
He asked, careful to not throw his voice too far. Whatever was out there, he wasn’t too interested in it coming back anytime soon.
“I don’t know.”
She answered so weak Jaxen strained to hear.
“Who are they?”
He asked, hoping this broad could give him something useful.
There was a long pause. Then finally, she answered, “monsters.”
Jax rolled his eyes, “awesome,”
he said flatly and went back to testing out the chain itself.
There was a rustling sound of an old time key shoved into a door knob. Jaxen’s jaw clenched with challenge. He recognized the man that came in. It was the very same one from the alley. He was pretty sure anyway.
The man wore a standard t-shirt and jeans, but with hard-soled boots covered with muck, giving Jaxen a small clue as to where they were. He had scraggly hair which he shoved behind his ears like he hadn’t had it cut in years, but at least it was clean. He probably didn’t earn a second glance from anyone in the red light district.
He came to stand in front of Jaxen, who quickly found he was too well restrained to kick any more usefully than a whiny infant throwing a tantrum, so he kept his cool and stared the sicko down. Across the way, he heard the girl withdraw like she wanted to sink into the wall behind her.
“Look, I’ll play ball.”
Jaxen started, but the man ignored him, peering upward to check the integrity of the restraints. “I can get my hands on a lot of cash. Anything you want. I am more than happy to deal my way out of here. No questions asked,”
he urged.
The man finally looked him in the eye, blinking briefly, like he were considering what Jaxen just said. Or maybe like he wasn’t quite up with his English. Instead, he smiled a hungry, amused smile and pulled an old swiss-army knife from his pocket. Jaxen swallowed nervously, and felt the tension drain somewhat when the man turned away, but then he walked to the woman, who started pleading incoherencies, and Jaxen frowned, deep and solemn.
He knelt to the girl and grabbed at her greasy hair and held her head still. The rest was blocked from his view, both by shadow and by his menacing shape, but her kicking and squealing was obvious. He yelled, “Hey! Stop!”
And to his amazement, a moment later, the man stopped, and turned around. That sickly greenish-yellow light drenching him. The girl was sobbing in the distance, too exhausted to do much more than simper and groan.
“Just stay away from her!”
Jaxen ordered, then he realized the glisten on that rusted old knife in the man’s one hand and a chunk of something else in his other. The man folded the knife against his thigh and slipped it back in his pocket, smiled, then suckled on the fleshy bend of a ear, bloody in clear demonstration for his next meal to observe. An earring still dangled from the lobe.
“The ears are my favorite part.”
He said, chewing, then left.
Jax sank against the wall behind him, jaw dropped open in utter shock. Fuck me.
Edited by Jaxen Marveet, Aug 1 2013, 01:44 PM.
For being tied to a wall with an iron chain and metal lock, Jaxen was in surprising good health--and he doesn't even swim. That is, if he ignored the splitting headache and tender ribs currently reminding him of how much he disliked getting the shit kicked out of him, then yeah, pretty good health. Pretty shocking, actually. Considering he was sure he was on the verge of death--last he could remember.
A bulb from a fluorescent lamp hummed and flickered in the center of this -- room -- he was in. The other bulb was burnt out, but taking a look around, he wasn’t particularly interested in seeing any more details of the place. The harsh light alone already drenched every surface with a sort of mildew-colored black and green cast. It was probably twenty steps to the wall opposite him, and another twenty to cross from left to right. The floor was cement, and nothing filled the open space. Not so much as a chair. Though, if he squinted, it seemed it sloped toward a dark, round disk at the center. A drain, probably. And he thought again of that constant dripping in the distance. The dampness to the place explained the mildew-like musk on the air.
For being in this sort of horror-flick gone terribly cheesy situation, Jaxen was almost as curious as he was alarmed. For this reason, he stretched to gather exactly how much freedom he had, but was careful to do so quietly in case anyone was around to hear his stirring.
His arms were held straight over his head high enough that his elbows were stretched dead straight and his wrists were gathered together in two shackles. First he went about feeling the metal as carefully as he could, twisting and curling his fingers along their edges, trying to feel for joints, hinges, locks -- pretty much anything he could to get an idea of how to break out.
Then he pulled his feet beneath him and made to stand. The chain itself rustled with the noise, and Jaxen froze half way up, heart pounding, and listened carefully for sounds of acknowledgement.
It was then he heard it. A quiet groan followed by a dry, throaty question. “Is someone there?”
His eyes went straight to her, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed her before. She was similarly restrained as himself but in a corner across the room. Her chains scraped lightly across the cement and next a sunken face leaned forward into the light enough to make her out. Jaxen cringed.
She was sickly pale, with a gaunt face and scraggly, greasy hair. One side of her head was completely patched with the thick matting of dried blood. It was impossible to tell if she was ever once beautiful, or anything else about her really. Then she sunk back into shadow, and Jaxen breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to see any more of her.
“Yeah. Where are we?”
He asked, careful to not throw his voice too far. Whatever was out there, he wasn’t too interested in it coming back anytime soon.
“I don’t know.”
She answered so weak Jaxen strained to hear.
“Who are they?”
He asked, hoping this broad could give him something useful.
There was a long pause. Then finally, she answered, “monsters.”
Jax rolled his eyes, “awesome,”
he said flatly and went back to testing out the chain itself.
There was a rustling sound of an old time key shoved into a door knob. Jaxen’s jaw clenched with challenge. He recognized the man that came in. It was the very same one from the alley. He was pretty sure anyway.
The man wore a standard t-shirt and jeans, but with hard-soled boots covered with muck, giving Jaxen a small clue as to where they were. He had scraggly hair which he shoved behind his ears like he hadn’t had it cut in years, but at least it was clean. He probably didn’t earn a second glance from anyone in the red light district.
He came to stand in front of Jaxen, who quickly found he was too well restrained to kick any more usefully than a whiny infant throwing a tantrum, so he kept his cool and stared the sicko down. Across the way, he heard the girl withdraw like she wanted to sink into the wall behind her.
“Look, I’ll play ball.”
Jaxen started, but the man ignored him, peering upward to check the integrity of the restraints. “I can get my hands on a lot of cash. Anything you want. I am more than happy to deal my way out of here. No questions asked,”
he urged.
The man finally looked him in the eye, blinking briefly, like he were considering what Jaxen just said. Or maybe like he wasn’t quite up with his English. Instead, he smiled a hungry, amused smile and pulled an old swiss-army knife from his pocket. Jaxen swallowed nervously, and felt the tension drain somewhat when the man turned away, but then he walked to the woman, who started pleading incoherencies, and Jaxen frowned, deep and solemn.
He knelt to the girl and grabbed at her greasy hair and held her head still. The rest was blocked from his view, both by shadow and by his menacing shape, but her kicking and squealing was obvious. He yelled, “Hey! Stop!”
And to his amazement, a moment later, the man stopped, and turned around. That sickly greenish-yellow light drenching him. The girl was sobbing in the distance, too exhausted to do much more than simper and groan.
“Just stay away from her!”
Jaxen ordered, then he realized the glisten on that rusted old knife in the man’s one hand and a chunk of something else in his other. The man folded the knife against his thigh and slipped it back in his pocket, smiled, then suckled on the fleshy bend of a ear, bloody in clear demonstration for his next meal to observe. An earring still dangled from the lobe.
“The ears are my favorite part.”
He said, chewing, then left.
Jax sank against the wall behind him, jaw dropped open in utter shock. Fuck me.
Edited by Jaxen Marveet, Aug 1 2013, 01:44 PM.